


A ’Bhanrigh Martarach (The Martyr Queen)

by NeonFinch



Series: Trust Me (Series) [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Action, Asexual Character, Character Development, Conspiracy, F/M, Galar-chihou | Galar Region (Pokemon), Government Conspiracy, Houen-chihou | Hoenn Region (Pokemon), M/M, Original Character(s), POV First Person, PostwickShipping, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonFinch/pseuds/NeonFinch
Summary: Nuair a thig air duine thig air uile."When it comes on one, it comes on all."After the attack on Wyndon Stadium, tensions are snapping. With Ghost freed from Galar, the Lower Regions have their queen. Likewise, Galar keeps a tight hold on the monarchy with both Leon and Hop on the throne. Between the politics, the virus continues to spread--the death toll hitting ever closer to home for the group.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Hop (Pokemon)/Original Character(s)
Series: Trust Me (Series) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928650
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	A ’Bhanrigh Martarach (The Martyr Queen)

_ **Brendan—** _

I stare at her, lying in the bed. Her chest slowly rises and falls, each breath gentle and relaxed. This is a huge shift from what came before kicking and screaming. She had every right to be confused, but it did make things more difficult.

“You know, she almost seems… fragile,” I huff, looking over her pale skin. A few cut marks marred it here in there, but it was mostly clean, milky porcelain. _She is almost as pale as a ghost…_

In the far corner of the room, pushing buttons on an old-tech computer sat a disgruntled figure. “Hmh.” Is the only response it made before clicking buttons again, ignoring me completely. His platinum, almost blue-grey hair that was usually always styled neatly now stuck out in places, held back by a tie. His tired eyes keep flicking over the computer screen and never bother to meet mine.

_Even now, he can’t be bothered._

It’s true. With the plan now in action, there isn’t time to waste anymore—it’s Galar’s turn to retaliate. The damage done at the stadium, though it kills me, was more than necessary. The only casualties were those Macro Cosmos thugs and a few audience members. Less than twenty people in total, but still a huge hit for a place like Wyndon. Galar hadn’t had an attack like this in almost two centuries. I sigh, picking at my fingers, “Any more news from Rose?”

The figure stops typing to scowl at me across the top of the laptop, steely blue eyes piercing, “Not anything worth getting worked up over. Have you heard anything from the forces in Kanto yet, _Commander_?”

I wince. “I told you—you don’t have to call me that. That’s just… that’s just for the militia.” The name was one of consequences of being in charge. I hate it coming from anyone but them—it’s a title I wear as a signifier. Not much of anything else. Something about overseeing that many people… The Hoenn militia had grown almost exponentially overnight once Ghost made her debut as Champion. Her win—her fire… it was a reminder that there is hope for the Lower Regions. There’s hope for a better life, a better… well, anything. “Kanto… Red sent for Gary to make it to us. He says that they’ve got mostly older fighters, kids well into their twenties, but they’re just as ready to fight as anyone else.” I exhale. Hoenn’s militia is made mostly of children, unfortunately. Out of all the regions, they’d been hit the hardest by the virus—no family could spare help, so the radical young trainers mostly came to join the cause.

“Let’s hope Gary shows up fast—he’s probably on the radar too if Galar can put two and two together,” he trails, “Arrogant bastard had better bring something to the table.” The typing continues, and I stand, going to stoke the fire beside him.

“If Red’s sending him, then there’s a reason, Stone.” I huff, adjusting the logs haphazardly. In the cold, dark room, the fire made it feel a little less like being underground. Hoenn may not be able to contribute warm bodies, but it has stealth. The art of making secret bases was only known to the most advanced of trainers.

“Hmph,” again. The clicking intensifies.

“Steven?” I breathe.

“Brendan?”

“Put the computer down. Take a breather.”

“Do you want to organize an army and all its resources? ‘Because I’d _love_ to take a breather—but I’m sort of busy.”

There’s no getting him to budge. Steven Stone and I have been close for years, but in a trainer to trainer kind of way. We have this mutual respect that goes beyond fighting; it’s something more personal than that. Steven is a planner. He’s cunning and sharp and sees people’s true intentions way faster than I ever could. “Stone… I’m serious. You need some sleep. We can’t afford mistakes, and if you keep running off only a couple of hours, you’re not going to make it.” I gently push the laptop lid closed, eyes meeting his. “ _Stone._ ”

Behind his tired eyes, there’s bloodshot in them. He only looks away from my gaze and at Ghost. “Fine.” Slowly, he stands and walks to Ghost, checking the machines and IV’s. “What a waste it would be to have her and her not wake back up after the other night, you know?”

I sit in the chair that had been my bed for the past three nights, lean over the arm of it to hold her palm in my own, checking the IV lines that now made her seem distant. “She’ll wake up again, just watch.”

* * *

_ **Leon—** _

I stare at Hop in the hospital bed as I pace back and forth in the sterile room. He had fallen asleep once he had calmed down a little, and seemed to almost be waking up again for the first time, like all of this was some horrible nightmare—his eyes trained on me. He blinks a few times, and his lips don’t move. It’s almost as if he looks through me, thinking, processing, trying to remember… I know the look almost a little too well. “ _Oleana’s really gone?_ ” his gaze seems to scream, staring at the rebroadcast. _“What happened?”_ His fist goes to his eyes, and he rubs them before letting his arms fall heavily to the side. He stares at the ceiling, fists balling up the sheets, eyes closing tightly against tears that push through.

My heart shatters. I put my hand over his fist, and he winces. This is all my fault. It’s _my_ fault. “Hop… I am so, so sorry.” I breathe, fingering his curls in my palm. His chest rises and falls haphazardly, like he’s going to sob, but he doesn’t. His eyes don’t meet mine anymore. The trust we’ve always shared… it doesn’t exist anymore. Even earlier, when I’d held him close, I can see that it was only his adrenaline keeping him to me. Now, he’s staring at the wall away from me, refusing to say anything.

I feel everything that’s pent up in me threatening to release. “Hop… I…”

_I killed Oleana for you. I… I lost Raihan to you. I…_

“…should have just told you from the start.”

He closes his eyes, eyebrows taut over his face. Pulling away, he pulls the thin hospital blanket up like a brick wall between us, ignoring my apology. He doesn’t know. And I can’t tell him. I turn, gut churning. If this is what it came down to… is saving him even an option at this point? Saving myself? Or are we all fighting a battle we can’t win? I turn back over my shoulder and wince at Hop’s frame looking so small in the bright lights of the room. “I _love_ you, Hop. Okay? I’m going to grab some coffee… do you want anything?”

Silence still.

I linger at the doorframe, “C’mon… how about a cup of oran berry tea? It’d be good for your head,” I murmur.

He stirs slightly and whispers something unintelligible.

I step closer. “Hop? What’d you sa—”

He inhales, shuddering, eyes closed tightly against tears. Weakly, Hop’s lips move, and a raspy voice escapes, “That’s Ghost’s favorite.”

\---

In the hallways, it’s eerie to me how I go undetected… for once in my life. I’m here in spare clothing, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. The hood of the sweatshirt is pressed against my hair that sticks out the front, stretching over my shoulder. Even in a place like this, I feel like I’d be noticed. Someone—some kid or even an older fan of battling… but there’s no one.

The walk to the food court isn’t long, but long enough to keep my mind running the incident on replay.

After Oleana had fallen silent, I stared at her body for too long, expecting her to spring back to life and slice at me. Nothing came, and gunshots still rang out through the stadium. I made my way through the mess and out the back doors of the stadium, running back to the tower. All the battle, all the carnage, it existed solely on the pitch—the surrounding city was desolate, empty, just as one would expect on a quiet night. If someone were to look in, they’d never know anything else was happening, minus the Corviknights, Pellipers, and Swellows perched squawking at the rim of the stadium. Soon, I made it back to my suite, and I paced back and forth, waiting for Brendan’s call. The spare phone he’d left looked like a model that was popular when I was young—old technology for sure. Shaking in my palms, I waited with bated breath as I clutched the phone.

Except, no call came. It was a simple text.

_“Ghost, Raihan. Hop MIA. Send update.”_

Not moments after I received the text, Rose called my other phone. I jumped from my spot on the bed, answering, “President? Are you alright?!”

“Where are you?”

“In the tower—I figured it’d be safest…”

“Wyndon Medical—I’ve found Hop.”

I swallowed uncomfortably, “Thank, Arceus.”

The line clicks, and I scrambled to text back, “ _Hop’s here. Rose found him.”_

_“Go n-éirí an bóthar leat."_

Shaking myself back to the present, I stand in a semi-short line for coffee—the only thing being served at this hour. I squint at the menu, not seeing anything of immediate value. Everything is silent, except the drip of a coffee maker in the back. The smell is enough to remind me of home, but there’s that lingering scent of bleach that won’t go away.

My mind flicks to Mum… what is she thinking right now? And my grandparents? They’re probably horrified—and I imagine Mum calling everyone except me. She never wanted to bother me. I shove my shaking hands in my sweatshirt pocket, clasping them tightly together. What would my mum think if she knew what I’ve done? What I’ve been a part of…?

The attendant looks exhausted, her emerald eyes dulled by dark circles. Otherwise, her voice is soothing. “What can I get you, sir?” She murmurs, blinking at my hair. For a moment, I’m sure I see a hint of recognition in her gaze, but quickly she turns her head to the side in confusion, “Um, sir? Are you alright?” Her gaze changes to worry, looking at my hands that are stuffed firmly in my sweatshirt pocket.

“Mh? Oh! Uh, yeah. Um… I’m okay. Th-thanks for asking,” I manage, putting my hood down. I laugh lightly, slumping over the edge of the counter, “Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied… er, a cappuccino and an oran tea would be wonderful, please. Th-thanks.”

She nods, ringing up the order at the register, and she doesn’t even know the half of everything. For a moment, I entertain the thought of saying, _“You know, have you heard about that horrific shooting that just happened at the stadium? Haha, yeah, I helped plan it! And even better—I killed my boss in cold blood because she stabbed my boyfriend and threatened to kill my kid brother!”_ Yeah, that should go swimmingly.

Instead, I hand her cash, and she hands me my change and a number. “It’ll be out in just a few.”

\--

 _“Mum, I’m fine. Leon is okay too. Mhm, yes! Yeah, we’re okay—no…no—Mum, don’t come here, please… Go visit Kukui maybe. It’s been ages—mhm. Yeah, I promise. I’ll talk to you soon—yeah, we love you too, mum.”_ Hop’s voice is hushed, and he exhales as the Rotom lies on the table, powering off.

Returning to the room quietly, I set the citrus tea next to Hop, watching him watch me… a little too carefully. “A ‘thanks’ would be appreciated, you know. You don’t know how long it took me to find that place.” I smirk.

Hop is stone. He doesn’t smirk back. Slowly, he pulls himself out of lying down and leans over the bed rail, cusping the tea in his hands. The warmth from the beverage leaks into his palms, and he visibly relaxes, taking a large inhale of the vapor. Like a pleased Persian, his eyes close, a small huff escaping him. “Mmh.” He sets the cup in his lap and looks out the window, shoulders sagging. “Smells like her. Oran and all.”

I blink. “Is that all? You know you can drink it too—”

“Shut up, Lee,” he snaps, hands beginning to tremble. He slowly brings the tea to his lips, taking a sip. “Why did Charizard blast the stadium, Lee?” His golden eyes stare in front of him, and his shoulders curve inward.

I inhale, looking away a moment. “I… something happened to her, I think—”

“Stop lying,” he exhales. “I know what I saw. And I saw you direct her.”

I push the door shut on the room, and glance around at all the equipment. Any bit of this could be bugged, but I’m not entirely sure… “Fine, you want all of it? Here it is.”

He sips his tea again, and his eyes soften. Maybe I took for granted how much he wanted to trust me. “Brendan and you didn’t take part in the challenge by chance. Rose made sure you came. He knows about the virus; he knows the two of you had been digging in the Dynamax files. He planned on bringing you here and arresting you, getting you out of the way once he had enough proof… he gag ordered Ghost with her life. She had no part in that press conference where she called you out. Everything she’s gotten since she’s been champ has been curated by Rose. She had no clue that there was a growing rebellion, she’s not seen any of the footage. The fan-mail, letters, all of it—nothing came from the lower regions. But… Hop… I knew. The Dynamaxing… what it does to those pokemon… I knew because it made Charizard sick in the beginning. When I saw all these other pokemon getting sick, I stood up to Rose.”

Hop blinks, realizing. “Arceus…”

I feel tears begin to well in my eyes, but I push them away. “He made it very clear—if I didn’t share his opinion of the use of Dynamaxing, then you were a target… and I… I couldn’t let that happen. So, I ignored it, to protect you. I… didn’t want anything to happen to you, Hop…” I sit at the foot of his bed, a palm just below his knee. “Brendan, Raihan and I… we tried to work something out to get you out of Wyndon, where you would be safe. Brendan swore he had the manpower and the strength to make it happen, and so I trusted him. He knew Ghost was in danger, but he didn’t know you were too—Raihan was supposed to leave with you. Brendan grabbed Ghost, but… Oleana stopped Raihan and I… she stabbed him, and I… I…Brendan found him, but Rose found you first.”

Hop makes a shuddering sound. “ _You_ did it,” he whispers. He stares at my hands, almost horrified, “Lee… you…Oleana?” He puts the pieces together, unable to say it fully. Slowly, he leans over me, hugging me tightly, the bandage around his temple pressed into my collarbone. I wrap my arms around him, staring at the tea still wafting steam into the room. It sits by itself, growing cooler the longer it stays away from Hop’s palms. _When does this ever end?_

“Hop,”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, okay? You’re the only thing in this world I really care about… and I’ve fucked it all up, I…”

He exhales, “Lee, I know. I love you too… I get it now—”

“I just wanted you to know because this is the beginning. After the attack… me and you, we’re the people Rose is going to use to garner support. This is just the beginning.”

“I know, Lee.”

* * *

_**Ghost--  
  
** _

They all stare at me, not saying anything. I swallow. Some of the faces, I recognized. Some of them… well, I’d never even heard of them before.

One cuts me off with a scoff, “Are you kidding me? We used all those troops to get _her_. She’s a scowl, ain’t she?” The man’s hair is a mahogany brown and seems to stick out in all directions. A dog tag is worn across his chest, and his feet are on the table. “I’d say any other one of us could make a difference, aren’t we all martyrs of our own regions? At least our citizens like us!” He gestures.

I blink.

“ _Enough,_ Gary.” Brendan breathes, pointing at him from across the table.

Steven Stone rolls his eyes. “Are the two of you children? Seriously, I swear you both have the most stubborn attitudes—it’s a wonder how you’re even relevant like that.”  
  
I remember him. It was hard not to when he’s the son of one of the biggest corporation leaders in Hoenn. Though, Stone had been different than the President from the beginning—kind and gentle mannered, and a really strong battler. I blink. _Is he still the champ here?_  
  
Stone pulls a blanket from the rack and sets it around my shoulders, helping me to sit at the old, weathered table. The thing is covered with scratches and scuffs, but seemed sturdy nonetheless. _Anything to hold me up right now…_ I’d never felt closer to vomiting from anxiety.  
  
Huffing, Stone pats my shoulder, “You’d think they’d show a fellow champ some manners, huh?” He smiles warmly, sitting beside me just before his eyes go to glare at Brendan and Gary who were still staring at one another. “Children!”

Brendan relents and Gary huffs in victory.

Another guy about the same age as Gary just smirks from underneath the brim of his baseball cap. His brown eyes eventually meet mine, and he nods. I expect him to say something just like the others… but I get silence. A shiver runs down my spine. I could’ve sworn I’d seen him somewhere before…

Wally and May sit next to each other, May talking to a guy I’d never seen before. He’s got a smug grin on his face, watching the exchange between Gary and Brendan. “Ah, temper-temper now, Gary. Easy goes it, huh? Not everyone can have the perks of having the hottest grandad around. Give the little lady a chance. Some of us come from pretty poor beginnings, but end up turning into something great, don’t we, Ghostie?” He breathes, and then I notice the steely silver eyes behind his fiery red hair. He looked different now then he had when I and Brendan were kids… _Silver…?_

I look away from him, and again at my fingers—trying to desperately come up with something to retaliate with…

“Ah, you don’t have such big wonderful words when it’s not all about you, huh?” He jests, shrugging as he puts his arm around May. “Get her a spotlight while you’re up, Stone—she only seems to be useful under pressure.”

Stone exhales frustratedly, “Listen, I know we all have our differences here and our own regions in mind, but can we _please_ come together to figure out what the hell it is that we’re doing here? There’s thousands of lives at stake.”  
  
Wally nods—the only one with an agreeable disposition currently.


End file.
